Category: feelings

“How are you?”

“I just finished dinner, so I’m still digesting,” Maga said.

“Ooh, okay.”

“How about you? Have you had dinner yet?”

“I finished just a little bit ago.”

“Are you a good cook?”

My response was to laugh out loud. “No.”

“What’d you have for dinner?”

“A baked potato.”

“That’s it?!”

“Yes.”

“Oh, well, I guess that’s nutritious enough.”

“It’s the ‘I-just-bought-a-furnace’ diet.”

“What’s that got to do with a baked potato?”

“A furnace is a lot of money. My savings took a hit. Potatoes are only 79 cents per item.”

Maga’s response was to ask about the weather. I clued her in about the brief snow squall this morning and the crazy winds that blustered about all day.

“We got snow yesterday,” Maga said.

“How much?”

Maga’s caregiver confirmed the amount. “8.5 inches,” Maga repeated.

“Did you go sledding?”

Maga’s response was to laugh out loud. “My sledding days are long since over, plus there aren’t too many hills around here.”

My response was to let my imagination run wild with Maga and a sled, or as she referred to it, a toboggan. I guess my mind really ran amok and the silence accidentally piled up. Maga, with her non-sequiturs, took charge.

“Your mom was my firstborn.”

I shook off the lingering imagery in my head and addressed the practicality in front of me. “Yes, she was.”

“I’m impressed with the progress she’s made. She’s done well with whatever she undertakes.”

My response was not to argue. Everything she said was accurate (which is why I took notes on how exactly she phrased it).

Our conversation may have been a night early and it may have not followed a logical path, but it was full of laughter along the way.

“I’m sitting here writing some birthday cards,” said Maga. “And it’s snowing and horrible outside.”

“Good thing you’re inside and warm!”

“Yes, I guess so. How’s your weather lately?”

“It was very cold today. Snowed yesterday.”

“Have you gotten any snow lately?”

“Yesterday.”

“I do not like the snow. Maybe it’s my age.”

“We’ve been lucky so far this year. Just a few little storms here and there.”

“Us too. It’s been enough, though not the great big heavy drifts and such. I do not like that. Oh, hey. Do you still do your Tuesday night thing with that crew?”

“No, unfortunately not.”

“Why not?”

I went into the finer, sadder details of why not, which I’ll refrain from repeating online since it’s not my news. Maga ingested the news, then asked if my boss had any kids, which had nothing to do with anything we were talking about…

“Nope, no children. Just dogs.”

“Some people would rather have a good pet, I guess.”

Not me, but I’ll refrain from repeating those details online as well.

Maga pushed me for more stories, more details, more excitement.

“I’m afraid I’m not very exciting right now. I’m living the just-bought-myself-a-new-furnace-financial-diet which is a lot of me sitting at home spinning the two pennies I have left.”

“Sometimes life is good. Sometimes life is boring.”

“I’m definitely in a boring slump right night. Maybe next week I’ll have something more interesting to say.”

“And maybe I will too,” Maga said.

An unofficial pact to live our lives here and now so that we’ll have oodles of tales for our Tuesday night phone calls.

“I’m watching something really wild on TV,” Maga said.

“What’s that?”

“It’s red and white.”

“What? That does sound wild!”

“It’s hard to keep up with things these days.”

“Trust me. It’s hard even if you’re not almost 98.”

“Is it? Oh, good.”

We then covered the weather and family news (trips and roads and fender benders) as the snow fell softly outside. It felt right that I was experiencing weather with the woman who always asks me about it.

“Well, that’s about all the family news I have,” Maga said. “Have you heard from anyone lately?”

“Just the Seattle crew. They’re getting crazy snow right now. A lot more than we are.”

“Oh. I had heard about that today.”

We discussed the details of more family news (lumps of snow and lumps on ankles and igloos) and ended with a promise to see each other next month.

“You sound good. Keep it up,” Maga said.

“You too,” I replied.

“How are you tonight?” I asked.

“I’m sort of good.”

“Just sort of?”

“Well, I’m getting up there in age.”

“Fair point.”

“Do you still do your Tuesday night activity?”

“Trivia. No, we’re on a bit of a hiatus.”

“Why’s that?”

“My boss’s wife is sick.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Was she part of the festivities?”

“Sometimes. But we’d always go to their house beforehand…”

“Oh, so you’d have connections with her at that point.”

“You got it.”

“Is she nice?”

“Yes.”

“And your boss? He’s nice?”

“Yes.”

“How old is he?”

“In his 40’s.”

“He’s young!”

“Yeah.”

“Trust me. That’s young!”

“Oh! Maga. What was your favorite decade of life so far? 20’s? 50’s? 90’s?”

“Hmmm. I’d probably say my 30’s.”

“Why’s that?”

“I had all my family and the kids were old enough to leave so I could go on trips with Jobo. He was a geologist with oil and gas companies so he traveled all over the world and it was nice to go along with him.”

“I bet! You guys had some amazing trips.”

“We really did.”

“Who did you leave the kids with if you and Jobo were together?”

“I had some really good caregivers, I mean, sitters I could leave the kids with.”

I made a mental note to check in with Mom and Aunt J to see if they concurred. Meanwhile, I reveled in Maga’s willingness to share details because sometimes having to recall things overwhelms her.

“I wonder what Jobo would have thought about all this climate change…?”

“I guess that did start after he passed.”

“Well, the effects of it started to really show after he died, yes, but it had started while he was still alive.”

“He paid a lot of attention to the climate, so he probably would be very interested in it.”

Even though the details of climate change are scary and vast, listening to Maga talk about Jobo made the situation temporarily less so.

“And how was your big weekend?” Maga asked.

“Fabulous!”

“How long was everyone there for?”

“Until yesterday because they got snowed in.”

“I’d heard the East Coast was having bad weather. Did you get a lot of snow?”

“Not really. Only about 4-5″. It was the sleet and freezing rain that caused most of the trouble.”

“Did you take lots of pictures?”

“Not really.”

“Oh, stop. You must have taken at least one. I’ll bet your mom did.”

“Actually, she took the least out of all of us.”

“Well, I’d love to see one.” (There was a lot of stress on that word “one.”)

“We were too busy to take pictures. We were just enjoying being together and experiencing things.”

“But the pictures make it memorable.”

“Isn’t it the experiences that make it memorable?”

“With pictures you can look back and remember it clearly.”

“I mean there are some pictures, but they’re just silly and not that good. Besides, I can remember all the fun things we did without looking at the pictures.”

“Well, I’d love to see one. I’m sure it’ll be a weekend that lives on in your memory.”

(Which is it, Maga? I thought. Will I remember it via my mind or only with my eyes??)

“I’ll tell my mom. She’ll get one for you.”

“She’s going to be so busy with her Wellesley Reunion Book.”

“Is she ever!”

“That’s very important work she’s doing for a big year. 50th anniversary.”

“What year are you on?” I asked.

“I graduated in ’42. You tell me.”

“Uh,” I scrambled, “Math is hard.” I counted fingers (don’t judge)…”67 years.”

“No! It can’t be,” Maga said. “Oh my.”

I pulled up the calculator and started laughing. “Actually, Maga, it’s 77 years!”

“Well guess what. In the last yearbook, my year had been eliminated.”

“No!”

“Yes! The earliest year with pictures is 1943. I was 1942. I guess there’s not many of us left.”

“That’s terrible!”

“I agree.”

And just like that her argumentative tone on having pictures clicked into place and my heart softened. The rest of the conversation was conducted in gentler tones.